


flower of flowers

by manquant



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, indirect allusions to The Reichenbach Fall, mentions of supporting characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manquant/pseuds/manquant
Summary: To passersby, it’s just a lady watching the riverside.





	flower of flowers

##  _Take the Hermès coat and drape it around Wato._

 

Sherlock has been following her since she left 221B.  **So forlorn**. Lugging her suitcase behind. What was Inspector Reimon saying? Kindness. Sherlock knew her gesture was both that and was not that at the same time. ‘tis a contradiction, can’t be helped.

_Seventeen more strides and I’ll be beside her once more._

She halts.

Wato has the coat she’ll recognize anywhere, bundled into her arms. She buries her face to it. Sentimentality.  _The dummy could be mugged of her belongings and won’t notice_.

She has to understand it was necessary. Sherlock continues the path. The next step… closer… and then, another.  _Too slow_. Taking a sprint is much better - ditching her cool, collected plan. 

 

The scent of the essential oil she’s been keenly searching for in the now bloodless coat grew from barely a hint to stronger than a note as two arms linked around her, clutching her as tightly as if they are opposite poles of a magnet.

How long was she even acquainted to ylang-ylang? Clearly not enough. But it’s her anchor. Home.

_Her Sherlock_.

A moment ago, she was gone for the rest of her lifetime. Even after seeing war, this loss is far too much.

“Wato.”

The source leans into her person, like that first altercation at the staircase; saying the two syllables that meant peaceful city, just like when the fateful day happened.

Unembellished. Crystal clear. Soft. Most sincere.

Too many thoughts running through her mind but there’s nothing else to do but to cave in to the embrace.

 

“Aren’t you going to duck?”

“Should I?”

With Wato’s left hand in mid-air, Sherlock blows her stray fringe, straightens her stance and lets out a chuckle.  _Her friend’s not going to back down, is she?_

“Unbelievable! Even Shibata was in on this?!”

“Trust me, I had no choice. I need to consider-”

“Every possibility, as you’ve said so many times before. Is that why you so rudely…”

Wato’s angry voice trails off. She drinks in the sight, one long moment, at the single red rose that should be still laying on a certain rooftop and is currently in possession of a supposedly deceased pale consulting detective and pouts. She shoves the green coat and walks away.

_Oh, like it will be that easy._

“It’s cold out. Take this, I gave it to you already.”

Sherlock waltzes after her.

“Hey, you must be hungry. Let’s go to that quaint ramen shop you frequent.”  _We’re in the vicinity, will be there in mere minutes and I am famished_.

No reply.

“Kento sent me open tickets. ( _Her brother could have a valid point: a text message is a more manageable aftermath. Ugh, feelings_.) We can go on vacation any time. You’ll enjoy it there, I made sure he picked the best itinerary. I already explained to Mrs. Hatano.  _(By explain, yes, I’m referring to how I managed to frighten the poor woman in the middle of the night while she was doing her bedtime routine and I was looking for my silver Prada pumps but let’s leave that part out_.) And you’re packed, not that you have the style; but we can shop.”

Fumbling what evasions to enumerate next, she bumped into Wato, who thankfully has stopped.

Sherlock cranes her neck and dares peek at her face.  _Those killer cute cheeks_. All scrunched up. Her smirk doesn’t fade fast enough as the latter turn around abruptly.

“Are you alright, though?” comes the query, motioning to her right hand in a cast.  _Ack, she almost forgot_.

“Inevitable. Hurts but better than falling to death, I suppose.”

 

_She returned from a near fatal brush, but not in one whole piece._ More than anyone, she knows how that feels. Hence, Sherlock wisecracking about it is more insane than being brainwashed to be terrorist.

“Well, then. Listen to your ‘very first friend’ for once. If I’m not really that, a doctor’s opinion should be valid, right? No more cases until that bone heals.”

“That would take weeks, at the very least. I’ll be bored!”

“I thought I heard you claim we’re going on a vacation?”

“A weekend. Tokyo won’t crumble if I’m a tourist for three days only. We can book a flight back-”

“It won’t make a difference if I leave you for good, then. Since you’ve managed swimmingly alone all this time.”

That cut the banter short. Air between thick with silence. Returning her gaze as if challenged, the accused replied in an uncharacteristic manner, “You know that’s not true, Wato. I meant every word and clearly, you remember.”

By all accounts, she hasn’t been her curt, provocative self lately. It’s undeniable that her heart flutters whenever Sherlock calls her. She can count in one hand how much she’s been referred to by name, but every single utterance has been very precious.

The sensation lingers and yet, she should make the former deal with her choices.  _It’s fair_.

“I do not. You’ve confused me since the day we met and just when I thought we were beginning to understand each other, you’ll throw a curveball. It’s a difficult cycle and frankly? I am tired.”

“Me, too. Therefore, we should start with the truth.”

 

“Fine. Why haven’t you answered me, yet?”

_Damn_ ,  **that question**. Outside of vengeful Akiko’s apartment, Wato stopped crying about the widow and threw the inquiry at her. Such determined truth-seeking eyes, demanding a piece of her she has long buried. A stranger then and more than just a friend now, Sherlock recognizes that same expression. She won’t let go, evidently waiting for her to open up. Distractions are useless.

That’s why she appeared before her, to explain. To fight her fear, have a confirmation whether she still wants the constant storming.  _Truth is my valiant armor, it would not fail me_.

“You witnessed how I strive to keep my promises to you. Will you hear me out?”

Slightly callused hands, probably from various surgeries over the years, clasped her free hand and held it to her chest.

 

“ ** _Yes_**.”

**Author's Note:**

> *dusts off this account* ylang-ylang is a flower which in Tagalog means "flower of flowers." since 1x08 features a red rose, of all frickin' flora to leave your tomodachi, might as well give that a shoutout while writing this epilogue we deserve. originally posted @watosarashelly on tumblr.


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